


shades of your skin

by dongyas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, idk this is gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dongyas/pseuds/dongyas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kageyama is just an artist who wants to paint something nice for once.</p><p>(and possibly win the heart of his best friend at the same time)</p>
            </blockquote>





	shades of your skin

**Author's Note:**

> what is this i am just kagehina romance trash

  
   Kageyama stares blankly at the sheet of paper on his desk. Their end of semester project. Supposedly the piece that would determine their success or failure in art. He scoffs and looks at the teeny tiny crowded black letters with no visuals or demonstrations. Well at least he had options.  
  
-  
  
   Kageyama hisses at Hinata to stay still. Hinata sticks out his tongue and continues wriggling around while Kageyama tries to paint him unsuccessfully, blending oranges and reds for his hair. He threatens the boy with no snacks for a month if he doesn't stop moving and Hinata freezes on the little beige loveseat with a slight pout. His model complains too much, he reckons as he swirls the brush around in the canvas to create the sweep of Hinata's jaw line. Kageyama peeks over the frame to examine the color of Hinata's skin. The tube of acrylic paint makes a nasty sound as he pours out more peach, smudging it against the yellow of the palette to create a skin like look. As he starts to fill in Hinata's cheekbone he realizes something is off. Everything looked wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. Kageyama throws the palette at the canvas and storms out of the room in frustration. Hinata just shrugs and returns back to his television show. The painting is splattered in ugly browns and grays.  

  
-  
  
  He finds himself back in the art classroom. He asks the professor how to paint skin. The older male just chuckles and claps his hand on Kageyama's shoulder, making him jump approximately 0.09 centimeters off the ground. Professor tells him skin cannot be painted, it can only be captured by the artist and how he sees his model. Kageyama just gives him a confused look. Professor points to a boy painting in the corner of the classroom. Kageyama looks at the painting. It was ghastly. Everything was off. Proportions were disfigured, facial features were dangled, and the skin. The skin was a mottled green with veins of bloody orange. It didn't look like a portrait at all. But somehow Kageyama knew it was art and it made no sense to him in the slightest bit. The professor claps him on his back and chuckles in that old wise man type of way.  
  
   "You can't paint unless you feel."  
  
   He then pushes Kageyama out of the classroom.

   Kageyama swears he can still hear the teacher laughing.  
  
-  
  
   "Hinata...can I feel your skin?"  
  
   His roommate just gives him a strange look but nods his head.  
  
   "As long as you don't sexually harass me I'm fine with it."  
  
   Kageyama guesses this isn't the right time to bring up the subject of his crush on the other.  
  
-  
  
   The next day Kageyama takes another try at examining Hinata while he is asleep. He quietly sneaks into his bed and kneels in front of the sleeping face. Hair. The first thing you notice about Hinata is of course his hair. Hair that was unruly and wild, curls and spikes spanning in all directions, orange as the light of the setting sun.  
  
   He moves onto his eyes. Although Hinata is sleeping, Kageyama has seen his shining eyes plenty of times for the memories to be ingrained in his head. When Hinata smiles his eyes crinkle up in the loveliest way, golden brown nearly disappearing under long black lashes.

  
   The skin. The fucking part Kageyama hated the most. He sighs and levels his eyes as close to Hinata's skin as possible without waking the other up. Hinata wasn't pale, he was more of a peachy nude. Like the colors of foundation his mother used on a Sunday evening, sweeps of mauve and dabbles of sand.  But on random splotches of acne scarred skin were splotches of pink. Not exactly blush like, but more of the natural things. The line of red where his hand pressed against his cheek, the imperfect bug bites on his arms and legs, and even the reds of irritation around his nose. Skin. Skin with little dips and tears, skin that wasn't perfect.  
  
   Well beauty was in the eye of the beholder.  
  
   Just as Kageyama is about to pull back from Hinata, the other flutters his impossibly long eyelashes and turns around to face him.  Kageyama realizes the close proximity of their situation, stumbling back and waving his hands. He babbles incoherent sentences about not being a pervert and only wanting detailed sketches, to which Hinata just laughs and rolls off the bed and into Kageyama's lap.  
  
   "Idiot. I'm your best friend, don't lie to me."  
  
   Kageyama's heart dies a little at the term of best friends, but he masks his hurt and smiles. His fingers also find their way up to Hinata's cheek and stroking it with his fingers, pinkie brushing orange and brown sideburns.  
  
   "I know. I know."  
  
   After a few minutes of silence Hinata crawls back into his bed and Kageyama crawls back into his small cave of cowardice.  
  
-  
  
   "Do you think it looks okay I mean I think it looks awful how has it even gotten this far there's so many pieces better than mine this isn't even my best work I mean look at it you see what- oh I'm rambling again aren't I."  
  
   Kageyama sighs and makes his nth attempt at tying the stupid green bowtie around his neck, miserably failing and throwing it at the ground instead. Hinata laughs from his black vest and pinstriped pants, picking up the piece of satin and draping it back around Kageyama's neck.  
  
   “It looks amazing Kageyama. Stop worrying so much. You've already made it to regionals. Now shut up and let me tie this bowtie."  
  
   Kageyama's almost too worried to enjoy the fleeting and unintentional touch of Hinata's fingers on his skin. Almost. But he had made it. Regionals. The ceremony was in less than an hour and his best friend was accompanying him to the gallery walk. A dream come true. Too bad Kageyama's really stupid.  
  
   "Shoyou I like you."  
  
   He recites the phrase over and over in his head, wanting to get the words right. He's about to ask Hinata if he was ready, stopping when he sees the other’s frozen and confused look.  
  
   "You....like me?"  
  
   Shit he said it aloud.  
  
-  
  
   The pair ride in silence to the gallery in a fancy limousine with all of the other artists and their chosen guest. Kageyama fiddles with the flute of champagne between his fingers. He was such an idiot. He screwed up. Hinata wasn't even looking at him now. Hell, the other had chosen the farthest seat away from him as possible. (He’s wedged between an obnoxiously tall blonde and a sputtering freckled kid for goodness sakes.) Kageyama wants to drink his pain away, but he had an important event coming up. What kind of artist came into a gallery drunk off his head? Confess. Why confess when you could jump into a sea of broken glass and roll through hell. It would feel the same.  
  
-  
  
   Throughout the whole event, Kageyama doesn't even catch a glimpse of his friend. He is too busy being whirled around by his art professor, the old man excitedly introducing him to other old men. Old men with fancy suits and watches who owned museums. Kageyama can't help but feel slightly deterred with his hand me down suit from his older brother, but he guesses he does a good job impressing the audience with his witty jokes and toothy smiles.  
  
   "Tobio could you please tell us what inspired your masterpiece?"  
  
   The really really really old man points to Kageyama's painting encased in glass on the wall. A painting indeed. Kageyama had painted Hinata. Kageyama had painted Hinata sleeping on the lower bunk of their messy university room. Kageyama had painted Hinata sleeping on the lower bunk of their messy university room with all the flaws and creases and imperfections of a human being. He had painted a normal human. Someone that was perfect even with their flaws and misconceptions, something the judges apparently thought was rare within university student submitted artwork.  
  
   To be totally honest, Kageyama had a whole speech prepared in case of this predictable question. A question like this was the most common. Questions like your favorite food or your hobbies, a common question like this for artists. He had a whole moving and inspiring speech scrawled on note cards that were in his jacket pocket. His hand moves to take them out but at the last minute he stops, eyes focusing on the person across the circle which he stood in. Hinata. Silly old Hinata who was staring at him, waiting for the answer that possibly would determine their relationship, whether it be friends, lovers, or strangers. Kageyama's hand stops and reaches back out of his jacket, staring back confidently at the male across him.  
  
   "Love."  
  
-  
  
   Hinata comes up to him after the old men are done and through with him, casting him a look that Kageyama can't quite decipher. He's startled when the boy pulls on his jacket collar and brings their noses together and lips close and skin just skin warmth and-  
  
   "Did you really mean it?"  
  
   Kageyama looks at the male across from him. His best friend. His crush. His soul mate. His partner.  
  
   "Yes."  
  
   Hinata rolls his eyes.  
  
   "You're a fucking idiot."  
  
   And when their lips press together Kageyama knows everything is going to be just fine.   
  
-  
  
   Epilogue: Kageyama doesn't advance to nationals, although he receives an honorable mention for best emotional painting or whatever. He doesn't really give a damn because Hinata's lips sure are better than any plaque he receives, and he spends the rest of the night exploring them back in their messy little room on the second bunk with the crinkled sheets and flat pillows. He certainly now has more inspiration for his next painting.

 

**Author's Note:**

> end me


End file.
